Breaking Points
by RandomHamster33
Summary: Collection of one shots revolving around whump and/or h/c. Each chapter will be labeled and have characters listed in them. Suggestions appreciated. Latest Chapter: Tony orientated (IW spoilers)
1. Falling

**A/N: Okay, so I've been wanting to write but haven't been into it much. So I decided what's better than starting a story that I can work on whenever I want and do whatever I want with? I like writing whump and h/c so this will be a collection of one shots dealing with whatever the hell Marvel stuff I wanna work on. It'll include the Avengers and associated worlds. Feel free to leave suggestions for situations/stories you'd like to see.**

 **Updates will probably be sporadic at best.**

 **Let's get started!**

* * *

Chapter One: Falling

Characters: Ant-Man/Scott, Wasp/Hope V., Hank Pym

* * *

"You have to get that drive before they get back to their base!"

Hank Pym's voice came over their coms, his tone full of urgency and anger.

"We will," Hope responded as she zoomed across the city on tiny wings. Scott rode a second behind her on an Ant he'd decided to call 'Ant-oinette.'

The need for the insect hero and heroine's mission was because of an attack launched by a covert group of Hydra agents. They had infiltrated Pym's lab and hacked into the databases, stealing file upon file about Pym Particles and how the suits operated. Fortunately, the intrusion was caught by the alarm systems, cutting the time the Hydra agents had had inside the lab and also allowing Scott and Hope to suit up and follow hot on the villains' tracks.

However, if they failed to capture the Hydra goons and retrieve the USB drive, all their hard work stopping Cross in the first place would be for nothing.

"They're cutting across fifth avenue to get downtown—you can't afford to lose them in all the chaos," Hank relayed. He was watching from cameras attached to Scott and Hope and also various ant sentries that were set up across town.

"On it, boss," Scott said. Ant-ionette obeyed his orders to follow after the black SUVs that were currently running red lights and streaking around corners at dangerously high speeds.

Hope's eyes tracked the vehicles as they wove wildly in and out of traffic. Suddenly, one SUV turned left and one right.

"Dammit!" the Wasp shouted, agitated. "You go right, I'll go left. We have to stop them before we lose the opportunity!"

Scott nodded in affirmation and angled his ant to the right. They didn't know which vehicle had the drive, so it was necessary to get into both.

Hope and Scott each chased down their assigned target. He lost track of Hope's progress as his own fight started.

The Hydra agents were obviously more prepared for this mission than any of the heroes had expected, so when a flash of what seemed to be a sort of laser or plasma shot past Scott's currently small head, he let out a cry and nearly tipped off his ant. Regaining his balance, he took in a deep breath, shocked.

"I think they can see me already!" Scott told the others. He leaned forward on his winged ride and zoomed closer to the SUV.

"You're just a speck. Are you sure?" Hank asked.

Scott's answer was cut off by another bright red blast that he barely managed to evade. Ant-oinette zipped in a tight circle to keep them from being destroyed, and he clung to her tightly in fear.

"Yes, I'm sure! It seems to be similar to how Falcon could see—whoa!" Scott cried out again, interrupting himself. He was gaining ground on the black vehicle despite his many evasions, but it was surely only making it easier for the Hydra agents to shoot increasingly accurate blasts at him.

"Be careful out there, Scott!" Hope warned. Her voice was full of worry. She was already beating the ever loving crap out of the three agents in her vehicle. They had not had the same technology to pin her down as they currently had with Scott. She ducked out after a quick scan for the drive and flitted out of the SUV, letting it crash into a roadside barrier.

"It's not in this car," Hope said with more than a hint of disappointment in her voice.

Scott tried to get closer, just a _little_ closer so he could safely land, but the laser shots kept coming at faster intervals. It was getting harder and harder to dodge them, quick and accurate as they were. It was then that a second gun was pointed out a window and another onslaught with the crazily accurate weapon came.

"I can't get in!" Scott fretted. He felt a sense of panic set in at the realization. He couldn't get close without being blasted to hell and back. He let Ant-oinette open her wings and catch wind to keep them higher in the air.

"I'm coming to help you, just don't lose them," Hope replied. She was still several blocks away.

Scott didn't say anything and just allowed himself to think and try to formulate a plan. Maybe if he just dove off his ant and barreled in through a window, he could avoid getting killed. But that seemed reckless and barely plausible, given he would be an even easier target without his ride. Even now, he was struggling to keep himself upright.

A shot from the Hydra agents finally managed to take out Ant-oinette, obliterating her in an instant. Scott was now free falling while an inch tall, and it was terrifying. He realized with a stunned thought that he had no backup ants waiting this time. How could he have been so stupid to not bring a whole platoon of ants?

Scott couldn't help as he screamed during his descent, body going head over heels even as he attempted to right himself at the sudden loss of his insect steed.

Hydra hit another strike on him, vulnerable as he was. The shot skimmed past his right side, heat searing through his ribs. It was just a scrape by, but it sent Scott reeling.

"Scott? Scott!" he heard over his com as he plummeted towards the hard, unforgiving ground.

Scott's eyesight faded in and out as he neared the concrete, and he couldn't help but think about how people looked like ants higher up.

* * *

Scott didn't know where he was. His head was full of fluff and his body felt like he'd just been shoved through a wood chipper. Voices echoed around him—wherever he was—but they sounded like they were underwater and he couldn't place their owners. He faded in and out of consciousness, lapsing from one point to another in conversation.

" . . . to be okay?"

". . . think so . . . a hard hit . . ."

"I'm surprised . . . survive that fall . . ."

". . . been out for hours."

Tossing his head back and forth, Scott let a small pained moan escape his lips, his mouth tugging into a grimace. His eyebrows knitted together with a wince, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to tone down the pain that radiated up and down his spine.

The voices stopped and took note of his distress. A flurry of activity swept through the room as whoever it was stepped up.

"Scott?" a distinctly female voice—familiar?—called out to him.

He shifted on what felt like a bed of some sort, fidgeting to give off more evidence of his pain. Scott's nerves were on fire at the moment, pain lancing through his spine and down into his limbs. At least he could feel his fingers and toes—he was glad _they_ were still intact.

A hand—oh, cold, cold hand!—touched his to try and settle him.

"I'll increase the morphine drip," came another voice, this time male.

Scott couldn't help the whine that dragged from his throat. The cold hand travelled from his fingers up to his forehead.

"He's burning up," the woman said.

Oh, maybe she wasn't cold, maybe he was just really hot? Explained a lot, actually, seeing as how Scott had just taken a twenty story drop at terminal velocity while only an inch tall.

Something else cold was lain on his forehead and Scott sighed heavily, relief flooding over him. His mind cleared somewhat as the pain began to fade, and he was able to finally place who was with him. He recognized Hope and Hank's voices now, and he deduced he was in the lab's medical wing.

"Scott, can you hear me?" Hope asked.

The Ant-Man winced as he tried to open his eyes, mouth set in a grimace. He got brief glimpses of blurry faces and shapes, but the light stung his eyes and he shook his head—a mistake, however, as pain flared in his temples.

"Lights, hurt," Scott choked out. Motion followed his words and a second later, he attempted to open his eyes again. The lights were dramatically reduced in the room now.

"Scott, how are you feeling?" Hope questioned gently, her face lined with worry. She took his hand in hers. Hank appeared at the edge of his vision as he blinked rapidly to adjust. The scientist settled down on a chair next to the bed.

"Uh," was all he could say at first. "Been better." He paused, taking in Hope's slight smile. "How am I not dead?"

Scott could see one arm in a sling and the other in some sort of brace.

"Not sure exactly. Even with the suit, you probably should have died after a fall from that distance," Hank put in dryly. Hope raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

"Great news. Glad to know I would've been missed." Scott tried to crack a smile but a snarl of pain up his spine stopped it and make him wince. "Ah, aha, ow," he whimpered, dragging out his whine. He struggled to breathe, every moment sending agony ripping through his back. Fast beeping filled the room from the monitors.

Hope and Hank exchanged worried glances. Well, _that_ was surprising—Hank being worried about him.

"What—what's wrong with me? What'd I break?" Scott finally asked after several minutes of strenuous existing.

"Well, not as many things as you probably should have," Hank replied. He stood and retrieved a clipboard with all of Scott's medical notes. "Three fractured vertebrae, fractured collarbone, dislocated right shoulder, torn ligaments in _both_ your elbows, heavy bruising on your ribs, concussion, strain on your pelvis—and there's a whole lot more scrapes, cuts, and bruises everywhere else." He set the clipboard down again and raised his eyebrows at the injured man.

Scott groaned, feeling like shit. He was bandaged everywhere—thank the gods they had lots of medical equipment. Nothing he had seemed _too_ terribly life threatening with the exception of his back; that really sucked. But at least he wasn't paralyzed? That had to count for something.

"You'll be fine," Hope said after a moment, looking Scott in the eyes. "You're just gonna be bed ridden for a while. Everything will heal, though."

Scott studied her expression for a second. "Well," he finally said, "that's better than nothing."

"Yeah. You should've seen yourself when we brought you in here. The neck brace you were wearing put surgery cones to shame," Hank chimed in. He smirked at the blank look he got from Scott, amused. "No worries, kid. You're all set."

Scott managed a small smile before the memories from earlier flooded back.

"Wait, shit! Did we get the, the thing?!" he exclaimed, fear gripping him.

Hope smiled and lifted a hand to show off the small device she held. "Hell yeah. And I did it all on my own; since you were too busy dying on the street."

"You left me there and went to get the drive?" Scott asked incredulously.

"Of course she did. We couldn't let those Hydra agents get away with it, no matter the cost," Hank scoffed. He was only half serious though, hints of amusement seeping through his voice.

"Well." Scott searched for something to say. "Alright then," was all he could come up with.

Hope smiled at him and ran a hand over his head, smoothing out his scruffy hair. "We're glad you're okay."

"I'm glad I didn't make us fail the mission."

"You bet your ass you are," Hank called as he walked out of the room, leaving them. He had work to do, and he had a feeling there was something coming he didn't want to be a part of.

"Don't listen to him; he was just as worried as I was when we picked you up," Hope explained lightly.

"So you're admitting you were worried about me? I'm touched," Scott replied, giving a small laugh and immediately regretting it as pain shot down his spine.

Despite her normally stoic nature, Hope laughed at his words and brushed their hands together again.

"Of course I was," she said.

Before Scott could quip anymore, she kissed him.


	2. Haunted

**A/N: Hope you like angst. I'm not sorry.**

* * *

Chapter Two: Haunted

Characters: Tony Stark, Nebula

* * *

Nebula stood next to him, her long legs the only thing he could see as he sat quietly, his eyes staring blankly forward. He barely recognized that she was there at all, mostly just knowing that because she was the only one left.

Besides him, anyway.

"W-what?" Tony stammered, finally breaking his gaze from nothing. He glanced up briefly towards the alien, confused.

"We need to get off this planet," Nebula repeated more firmly this time. Her tone held little besides urgency, though underneath the unfriendliness was a token of sadness.

Tony nodded jerkily, some of his senses returning to him. Right, they were stranded on Titan—just the two of them.

"How?" Tony asked. He managed to keep the tremor out of his voice.

Nebula turned her head as if to look into the distance. "Gamora and her friends had a ship; we can take that. It's just over this rubble."

Tony nodded at her words. Okay, he had to get up; he had to get to the ship. The ship meant leaving, leaving meant Earth, and Earth meant Pepper and Rhodey and Peter—

No, no, _not_ Peter, maybe not even Pepper or Rhodey or _anyone_ for that matter—

"Get up."

Nebula's deep, husky voice pulled Tony out of his head with a small gasp and a flinch. His heartbeat was a blur under his ribs and his chest felt tight. At the intrusion of Nebula's snipped command, the billionaire felt some of his functions return to normal.

"Yeah, s-sorry," Tony stuttered, forcing the words from his mouth. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself.

Nebula narrowed her dark eyes at Tony as he painstakingly pushed himself to his feet. The wound Thanos had given him—the through and through stabbing—pulsed in agony as he did so. The nanoparticles were only holding his body together for now, stopping blood flow, keeping organs in; they weren't designed to bind to flesh and heal. His cells would reject them if left for too long. They would work for now, but he needed an actual hospital as soon as possible.

Tony was out of breath already, and he'd only just barely gotten to his feet. He leaned against a broken shard of age-old civilization, the metal building warm under his hand from the glare of the surrounding suns. Taking a moment to recover, he pressed a hand to the wound in his abdomen.

"You can walk?" Nebula asked. She was still carefully watching the human, her gaze searching. She seemed wary and on edge, but it was in her nature despite the circumstances anyhow.

Tony nodded wearily, too tired to speak. Nebula also nodded before turning around; she expected him to follow, and he did. Though not as fast as she was, Tony limped after her, using nearby structures and chunks of large rocks to help him navigate the uneven terrain. His injury sparked with pain if he dared stretch out to reach for a hand hold, and Tony had to grit his teeth to stop the whimpers that threatened to escape him.

Fine, fine, he'd be fine; he'd taken beatings before. Of course, none of them had ended in something like this . . . except for Afghanistan, he supposed.

 _Don't think about it_ , Tony scolded inwardly. He didn't need anything else traumatizing from his past adding to his current problems.

After a minute or two of walking that seemed like a marathon's amount of time to Tony, he and Nebula came to a sharp drop off. The Guardians' ship, the Milano, sat at the bottom. Rocks and small edges littered the dusty earth's slopes, obvious paths up and down for anyone besides him at the moment. Tony took one look at the situation and knew he wouldn't be able to get down there without help.

"I can't do this," Tony admitted quietly, slumping against a boulder next to him. His heart thumped loudly in his chest from the earlier walk over there and he had a headache coming on.

Nebula, in her jerky, robotic movements, snapped her head over to look at him.

"I'm too hurt to climb down," Tony explained, although he didn't think he really needed to verbalize this fact. He closed his eyes, feeling overwhelmed.

Nebula was a complete wildcard; he didn't know what she wanted. If he couldn't get down, would she strand him on Titan? Would this injury kill him in a different way?

It seemed he was right, as Nebula turned her head towards the ship and looked ready to leap down into the ravine. However, she surprised Tony by grabbing him and slinging one of his arms over her shoulders. The next second, they were leaping into the air. Tony's stomach lurched despite being used to stuff like this, and he thought for sure he would break his legs upon landing.

However, Nebula landed as gracefully as a cat and allowed herself to take most of the impact before letting Tony's weight down. The billionaire was startled, and he found himself staring at the alien woman, who had now retreated back into her own personal space.

Nebula noticed his gaze upon her and rolled her eyes, huffing, "Get over it."

Nebula stalked forward and opened the hatch underneath the Milano. The stairs dropped down and she glanced over her shoulder. Tony blinked once before limping after her. He climbed the stairs agonizingly slower than normal.

The inside of the Milano was fairly nice, if not a little disorganized. Finding a chair, Tony allowed himself a reprieve from his pain and sank into it, exhausted.

Nebula was already at the controls, flicking switches and preparing for takeoff. It only took her a minute to get everything going.

Tony wanted to ask her if they were going back to Earth, if she wanted help, wanted to thank her for not leaving him behind.

"You wish to return to Earth?" came Nebula's voice as if she had read his mind. She didn't spare a glance backwards as she got the ship into the air.

Tony, flickering back into awareness from where he'd been subtly falling asleep, perked up at her words.

"Yes, Earth, please," Tony replied wearily. He was so tired . . .

Nebula nodded and said nothing more.

Tony let his eyes flutter closed; the trip back to Earth would be hours. He knew this from when he, Strange, and P—when Strange and he had hijacked the ship from Ebony Maw.

Fatigue crashed over the billionaire so heavily that he forgot his troubles and slipped into sleep within a couple minutes. At least he didn't have to think about anything right now . . .

* * *

"Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good," Peter mumbled.

Tony turned immediately, adrenaline keeping him on his feet, and spotted the teenager coming up behind him.

"You're alright," Tony said after a moment of hesitation, even though with one look he knew that Peter wasn't okay, he _wasn't,_ oh god, _he wasn't okay_.

"I-I don't, I don't know what's happening." Peter stumbled and Tony caught him, and the boy began crying. "I don't wanna go, I don't wanna go-!"

Tony tripped with the kid in his arms, the sickly-looking Peter weighing him down. He wasn't strong enough to hold him up, and Tony could see the tears in the kid's eyes as they fell.

Peter looked up into Tony's face.

"It's your fault," Peter said suddenly, his expression of sadness twisting into a snarling glare. Tony was taken aback—this wasn't how it happened—

. . . Was it?

"It's your fault!" Peter now screamed, teeth bared at his mentor. Through angry tears, the kid began to shout. " _It's your fault!_ You killed me! You killed me, Mr. Stark! You _killed_ me!"

Tony realized he was crying as he tried to think of something to say, but Peter was right; he didn't do enough to save him.

Tony didn't save him; he _couldn'_ t save him.

"No, n-no, Peter, I didn't, I didn't mean to," Tony cried desperately, "I'm sorry!"

Peter was now screaming at the top of his lungs at the billionaire, "YOU KILLED ME, MR. STARK! YOU WEREN'T ENOUGH! I HATE YOU! YOU FAILED ME! I _TRUSTED_ YOU!"

Peter's words hit Tony like punches. They were still on the ground, and Peter was beginning to fade away, and his last words to him were filled with hate and betrayal.

"THIS IS ALL ON YOU! I HATE YOU!" Peter shrieked between his crying, tears running down his face. He dissolved into sobs as he finally whimpered softly, "Why didn't you save me . . . ?"

The teenager faded into ash under Tony's fingers.

" _Peter!"_

* * *

Nebula knew the injured man was having a nightmare. From her spot in the pilot's seat, she could hear him on one of the chairs behind her. It had started with twitching and sighs but had now escalated.

Nebula tried to block his frantic whispering and gasps out of her hearing, attempting to simply focus on piloting the Milano. She didn't care what demons this man harbored; she had lost something too—the only thing she'd had left.

Yet, she found herself listening in on the man's—what was his name again?—nightmare as if to decipher what was interfering with his sleep. She heard bits of a name—the Spider child, if she recalled correctly—and he was crying and breathing a bit too fast.

Nebula exhaled forcefully and attempted once again to block out Tony—right, she'd caught his name earlier, it was Tony—and his nightmare from her thoughts. She tried not to think about how she could relate to what he was going through; Thanos, for all his calling of her his "daughter," had tortured her, and she had often been plagued with terrors at night.

Tony went quiet after a few minutes, thankfully. It seemed he was over it, and Nebula allowed herself to relax again, not wanting to admit his subconscious actions had put her on edge.

However, it didn't last long as she suddenly jerked the steering joysticks when he let out a sharp scream. The Milano was yanked to the side in a stomach-churning motion, but the alien woman was quick to get the ship back under control a split second later once her initial shock had worn off.

Tony was now fully awake in one of the backseats, his breath coming in quick bursts as he hyperventilated. Small cries of panic tore from his throat between gasps, his eyes wide and full of terror, and his hands grasped desperately at his collar as if trying to loosen some invisible knot. He was shaking, sweating, legs trying to pull up to his chest as he tried to curl himself into a ball.

Tony knew he was having a panic attack but he couldn't stop it. He snarled at himself angrily through his hyperventilating, but the fury dissolved quickly under the pressure of the screams threatening to escape. God, it'd been ages since he'd had one this bad; not since New York had he screamed in the middle of one.

 _Make it stop, make it stop!_ Tony willed himself through his panic, tears running down his face. The wound in his abdomen shot a stab of pain into his nervous system and he was forced to drop his legs to the floor. It made it harder to control his panic, and he could feel himself getting lightheaded from his breathing. Tony slumped forward and shoved his head almost down to his knees, a series of quick and frantic cries forcing their way from his throat.

 _Get it under control, please, please, I can't_ do _this!_ Tony begged inwardly. He couldn't breathe, his chest was so tight and his head was in the clouds. He didn't notice as Nebula came over to stand next to him, leaving the ship to float freely through space for now.

Nebula stood and watched his panic for several long moments; she didn't know what to do. Tony was a mess of tears and trembling limbs, and the alien wasn't sure of how to make it stop.

Tony did, however, feel the hand on his shoulder a moment later. He wanted to jerk up and away from it but found he couldn't.

"Calm down," he heard Nebula's husky voice. She was trying to be gentler, he could tell through his haze.

Tony squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could, hoping to force himself away from the experience. If he thought hard enough, maybe he could imagine it was Pepper standing next to him instead of an alien.

 _Focus on Pepper, focus on Pepper,_ Tony repeated in a mantra. He just wanted to be with her; he wished things weren't how they were but he couldn't pretend like Peter and everyone except him and Nebula were gone, boom, just like that and he was all alone and—

Tony's breathing hardened again and he cursed himself when he realized it. Forcing his thoughts onto something benign like that colorful radio of the Milano, he managed to calm himself down. He counted backwards from a hundred as his vision blurred on the orange trim.

It took a while, but Tony finally succeeded in stopping his panic attack. Slumping tiredly against the back of the chair, he sat numbly with his eyes closed.

Nebula watched him, her hand long since returned back to her side. She couldn't understand everything about him, but she did understand that he was worth bringing back to Earth.

Nebula turned and went back to the pilot's chair, switching the engines on again and pressing forward. Meanwhile, Tony sat in the backseat, his hands trembling as he slouched into them. He wouldn't sleep again—he didn't _want_ to, anyway.

Tony didn't want to return to his nightmares, but when he was awake . . . all he could hear was Peter whispering "I'm sorry" as he faded away.

 _No,_ I'm _sorry, kid._


End file.
